


The Call

by rushie



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Wakes & Funerals, implied steve/peggy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 18:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3947347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rushie/pseuds/rushie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or, That Time Steve Rogers Had To Give A Eulogy At Peggy Carter's Funeral</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Call

The call came late on a Friday.  

Steve wasn't sleeping. He didn't sleep a lot in general, but that night in particular, something kept him awake. He couldn't stop replaying his conversation with the nurse earlier in the week. He'd gone to visit Peggy, as usual, but on his way out, a nurse had pulled him aside. Part of him wondered if he was going to be chastised; he'd stayed right until the end of visiting hours again, even though Peggy had slept through most of them.  

The nurse was young--and by young he meant about his own physical age--but her eyes were older, and he wondered how many people like Peggy she had seen. Steve swallowed, hard, and let his soldier mask slip into place. Whatever she had to say, he didn't want the whole floor knowing his reaction. 

"It won't be long now," she said, quietly even though Peggy was sleeping. Steve's heart had clenched. "You learn to tell," the nurse explained, and patted his arm. "If you want to go back in and say goodbye, I wouldn't blame you."

And so when his phone rang at eleven-eleven that Friday night, Steve knew. He didn't even have to look at the number or listen to the nurse (Was it the same one? It was hard to tell over the phone) say, "Captain Rogers? ...She's gone." He mumbled a thank you and hung up and spent the rest of the night staring at his ceiling.

He'd thought his day couldn't get any worse after that, but he was wrong.

The next day, Nick Fury called him into his office. Of course, he didn't really  _call_. Instead, he lingered on the high track above the gym at the New Avengers facility and watched Steve showing Wanda some basic hand-to-hand combat moves until the super soldier felt eyes on him. Fury invited him to sit down, but Steve remained standing, hands behind his back, preparing to give a status report. Fury was fond of those these days, wanting to know the progress they were making with the new recruits. Most of them were pretty green, but Spider-Man, at least, had been doing this for a while on his own, and while his mouth sometimes got on Steve's nerves, he was a good kid.

"I want to offer my condolences," said the director of SHIELD, and Steve clenched his jaw.

"With all due respect, sir, I don't--"

Fury leaned back in his chair, surveyed Steve with his good eye, and cut him off. "The family asked for someone from SHIELD to say a few words at the funeral."

Steve stared, waiting. When Fury didn't continue, he tilted his head as if he were about to shake it. "No."

"You're the face of SHIELD, Captain."

"You're the  _director_  of SHIELD!" Decorum forgotten, Steve removed a hand from behind his back, flexing his fingers in frustration. He balled a fist and leaned it on the front of Nick Fury's desk. "I'm not doing it. I missed her whole life! For God's sake, Nick, I didn't even  _know_  her."

Fury just continued to stare, until Steve's anger deflated and his shoulders sagged. Steve turned and left without being dismissed, angry with Fury, angry with himself, and angry at the world. When Steve reached the door, the director said quietly, "Funeral's on Tuesday."

 

* * *

 

Tuesday came. He sat in church next to Natasha, but oddly it was Tony's presence on the other side of him that comforted him more. The Avengers who could make it were here because Peggy had been the founder of SHIELD. Steve and Tony were here for more personal reasons. It made Steve feel better, because Tony knew the family, knew the kids. They shook his hand and hugged him and said  _thank you for everything_  so much that they barely noticed Steve when he awkwardly went up to shake their hands. How much did they know? When he was heading to his spot in the pew, he caught Sharon Carter's eye. Her expression didn't change, but Steve grimaced internally. Even if none of the others did,  _she_  knew. 

He felt the weight of the folded paper in his pocket all through the service. He fidgeted almost as much as Tony. (Unlike Tony, however, he didn't produce a flask halfway through to sip when no one was looking.) He didn't hear anything the minister said, and he only caught a few words from the eulogy given by one of Peggy's sons. ( _Grant_ , he'd said when he introduced himself, and Steve had felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.) His heart was pounding in his ears when it was finally his turn. He felt rooted to the pew. Natasha dug her hand painfully into his side to make him get up.

He wasn't very far from the front of the church, but the walk up the altar and to the lectern felt like it took him forever. He didn't look at anyone, ducked his head. He felt everyone watching him, wondering what Captain America would have to say on behalf of SHIELD. Sharon Carter sat in the first pew with the family. Steve tried to forget she was there.

He pulled the folded sheets out of his breast pocket. He was acutely aware of how loud the paper sounded inside the church. He'd spent most of the weekend writing it, trying to find the right amount of personal and professional. He'd included a few jokes that Natasha had assured him were in good taste. But when he opened the paper and spent too long smoothing it out on the lectern, he knew he couldn't read it. He couldn't give Peggy the eulogy he wanted to, the eulogy she deserved from him. That chance had been taken from him when he'd gone into the ice. How could he stand in front of these people--in front of her _family_ \--and talk about her like she was nothing more than the woman who started SHIELD, an old pal from the army?

He owed her more than that.

"I can't," he muttered. The congregation stirred. He shook his head, just a little, and turned to get the hell out of there. Coming had been a mistake. He couldn't do this. He shouldn't have had to do this. He felt a pang of loneliness, that there was no one else in the entire church who understood. The man out of time. He missed the Commandos.

Peggy's coffin caught his eye as he moved to step off the altar. He drifted toward it, unable to stop himself. It was closed, and it had been closed at the viewing before the service, and he was thankful. It allowed him to picture her lying there the way he had known and loved her best--red lipstick, one eyebrow arched slyly, unlined, unbent, and unbroken. He reached out and put one palm on the coffin lid. The minister made a convulsive movement, but he saw Sharon Carter wave him down. But even as she did, she never took her eyes from Steve. The entire congregation stared. He put them out of his mind.

"Sorry I missed our dance, Peg," he said, and though he was quiet, the church was quieter; his voice carried and echoed off the expansive ceilings. He closed his eyes, allowed himself this moment of grief, this handful of tears, and then returned to his pew. He stared straight ahead, ignoring the people whispering to each other, turning to look at him. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply. Someone next to him cleared their throat.

Steve opened his eyes.

Tony gestured with the flask.

Steve took it.

**Author's Note:**

> I know that Steve can't get drunk, by the way; sometimes it's less about getting drunk and more about just needing a drink.


End file.
